


Light My Candle

by ireachoutandtouch



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Annoying Taylor, Bitchy Nick, Bromance: Narry, Bromance: Zouis, Depressed Louis, Happy Ending, High School Harry, Homophobic Language, M/M, Self-Harm, Singer Harry, Uni Student Louis, Writer Louis, trigger warning, who gets roasted... alot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-10 13:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8919754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ireachoutandtouch/pseuds/ireachoutandtouch
Summary: He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the wetness of the tears brings him back. He’s not scared, but the river on his reddened cheeks from the cold air flows faster. His too big grey sweater billows in sync with the raging wind on his balcony, where dozens of orange pills were scattered at his haste to find a way out and finally breathe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hoi! This is my first fic I've written. And I'm not really sure if I should continue, but please let me know if you want me to. I'd be more than happy to :) Based on a true story but with added romance and a happy ending! I'll post a chapter once a week, if I do decide t finish this off.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The wind whips through his hair as he stares at the distance, lost in thought. Its rough actions are gentle to him; it comforts him as it caresses his scalp, reassuring him that what he’s doing is the only way. And he trusts it. _This could end it all_ , he thinks, _two years of running in circles in a maze with no light, there’s finally an exit._ He smiles to himself, but his smile is only full of melancholy. A genuine smile never made it to his face, and he sometimes wonders how it feels to smile a smile that’s not forced on your lips, but a smile where the happiness melts your cold. He used to smile before. He used to feel happy once. Nostalgia shoots through him, he longs for the days he and Zayn frolicked in the spring grass, jumped on the crunchy autumn leaves, built snowmen in the winter snow and lounged in front of the fan when the summer heat reached its max. The memories are already fading, their light diming in the forever growing dark.

Eyes still fixed on nothing, he brings the blade towards his neck, hands trembling the slightest, until it nests upon his flesh. Just one jerk of his hands could set him free, or one jump or one swallow of a pill. All of the things he couldn’t fix could be, with just one move.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the wetness of the tears brings him back. He’s not scared, but the river on his reddened cheeks from the cold air flows faster. His too big grey sweater billows in sync with the raging wind on his balcony, where dozens of orange pills were scattered at his haste to find a way out and finally breathe.

This wasn’t his first time out here crying himself to comfort, he came a lot more in the past week when the darkness weighed him down to the point of nearly blacking out. But it was the first time a blade has touched his neck. A new sensation roused in the pit of his stomach, a mixture of nervousness, confusion and a little excitement about closing his eyes forever and never seeing the gloom ever again. It meant leaving everything behind and freeing himself. But friends were a part of everything…

He shakes his head. _If I go,_ he thinks, _then that’s one less problem for them._ He wanted to leave a note, explaining, but would they ever find it? They’re so blunt and oblivious, would they ever know?

The blade digs farther into his flesh, a drop of crimson evades from within and splashes onto the tiles beneath him. He has to do it now. He tries to set a pace to his beating heart pounding in his chest, but can’t. He doesn’t want to die in fear, because he doesn’t cower because of death. Death is something inevitable, and from the moment you were born, you were walking right into its arms.

 _Do it_ , he tells himself. He tries to move his hand, but his muscles don’t oblige. He feels his chest tighten as if a pair of icy hands was squeezing the life out of him, holding him back. He does everything in his will to move, but fails to do so. The wind doesn’t feel soothing anymore, and it leaves him chilled to the bone. His breath quickens in his attempt to set himself free from the vice-like grip.

“He’s coming” someone says, but there’s no-one here with him. Abruptly, the hands let go, causing him to collapse to the ground in a bundle of mess. He gulps the air greedily. Slowly getting to his shaking knees, he hears footsteps echoing in the staircase outside. Zayn.

Hastily gathering all his things, he gets up with all the energy he can muster and makes his way to the sliding door that connects to the living room. The sounds of heavy boots get louder, making him panic.

Once inside, he dashes to his room, still cradling his blade and pills in the cook of his arm. He tucks it in a knackered cardboard box beneath his bed and heads to the dresser, ruffles his hair and wipes his eyes, trying to make himself more presentable and less broken.

“Louis!” Zayn calls. “I’m home!”

“Yeah, in my room” he calls back, his voice cracking faintly on the last word.

He hears Zayn removing his shoes and hanging his coat, and then making his way to his room. He opens the door without asking and immediately wraps his arms around Louis’ petite shoulders. He always knew when something was off. “What’s wrong, bub?”

Louis huffs. He never understood why he stayed and cared for him for the past ten years.

“I cut my neck when I fell” he pouts, acting along. He lifts his neck to show Zayn his ‘accidental’ cut, and relief washes over him when he hears Zayn laugh. “You never grew up, did you” he smiles. Louis plasters an innocent smile and squeaks a “Nope”, popping the ‘p’ at the end.

“I’m heading to Liam’s tomorrow” Zayn says, his excitement clear in his voice.

“Zayn Malik smitten? What a sight!” Louis exclaims, smirking when he sees the dark red creeping on Zayn’s face.

“We're just friends, Lou” he whines.

“Friend with benefits” Louis deadpans. “Go fangirl somewhere other than my room”

Zayn sighs, hands lingering on the brass doorknob, and smiles. “It only felt like yesterday, hanging out with Niall on the fields, but it was six years ago” he pauses before continuing. “So much has changed” and with that he leaves Louis’ room.

 _Yeah_ , Louis thinks to himself, _so much has changed._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homophobic language used.

“Oi ass!” a deep voice booms.

Harry cringes and clutches his books tighter to his chest. He’s not bothered for Nick today, but there’s no loophole. He sighs, knowing that he’ll be beat up again, but keeps walking to class.

A pair of strong arms shoves him against a locker, and a burst of pain consumes his face. He staggers slightly and keeps walking. He could beat the shit out Nick, if he wanted, but he could never bring himself to hurt someone like that.

Nick grabs his shoulders and spins him, pinning him against the corridor, he’s snarling at Harry, fuming that he ignored him. “You fag” he spits. “Did you just _ignore_ me?”

Harry’s gaze drops to the floor, suddenly vulnerable, in an act of surrender. His arms give out in fear, causing the books to fall with a loud _thud_ on the floor. “That’s what I thought” Nick says smugly. He lets go of Harry, but Harry knows it’s not over, Nick doesn’t show mercy towards anyone. But thank god his friends aren’t here and it’s just him.

Nick’s rock like fist collides with Harry’s frail torso and then moves to hit Harry’s face.  He collapses to the floor, coughing on his blood, his body screaming in pain. He makes out figures of people walking by, watching him in pity, yet not doing anything. In the beginning of the year, Harry used to hate them for not helping, but soon realized they did it so they wouldn’t get the shit beaten out of them.

Nick continues kicking his sides until Harry is wheezing. He gives him one final kick, crushing the air out of Harry. “Gay piece of shit” he spits the word like it’s fire to his mouth. “Get your fag ass out of here”

Harry lays there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Nick hasn’t hurt him this bad in a while. Niall is always stuck to his side, so Harry only gets a shove when Niall’s at the bathroom or cafeteria. But Niall’s at his dental checkup today, leaving Harry to count the endless hours ‘till the end of the day.

He staggers to the bathroom, sighing in relief when there’s no one there. He goes to the mirror, checking his face for any major damage. Nope. He has a cut lip, a bleeding nose, a black eye, ten new bruises, and probably a fractured finger. He feels sore all over, and tears prickle at the back of his eyes. He sighs, rubbing his hand on face, wincing at the pain at his lip. He cleans himself up and glances at his watch: one hour to go, he can survive. He fishes his timetable that’s folded neatly in his science textbook, scanning his page for the last period for Friday. Free period.

Harry, for the first time that day, smiles. He skips to locker and grabs his bag, shoves his books into it and plugs his ear phones to his iPhone. He plays his playlist on shuffle, grinning when Twenty One Pilots plays first.

_Sometimes you gotta bleed to know_

_That you’re alive and have a soul_

_But it takes someone to come around_

_To show you how_

He makes his way out of the dull building and heads to the park, humming the song as he walks. Harry arrives at the park in a few minutes, and it’s already packed with students from both Uni and High School. He finds an empty bench by the duck pond and he plonks down. He stares at the people laughing and playing, and he smiles to himself, happy for them. He’s feeling better, the pain on his cheeks and torso ebbing away.

He doesn’t notice a short man sit on the other side of the bench, to content with his miserable life. He tunes back to his music, that’s now playing a familiar song by Troye Sivan.

_Awake, wide eyed_

_I'm screaming at me_

_Trying to keep faith and picture his face_

_Staring up at me_

Harry sucks in a breath. This song always hit him like a train, though he listened to it more than a million times. His reaction is identical to the first time he has heard it. He sings along to the next verse, putting all his emotions into the words.

_Without losing a piece of me_

_How do I get to heaven?_

_Without changing a part of me_

_How do I get to heaven?_

_All my time is wasted_

_Feeling like my heart's mistaken, oh_

His voice is thick with tears that run freely and drip onto his bag. How _does_ he get to heaven?

_So if I'm losing a piece of me_

_Maybe I don't want heaven?_

The young man on the bench shuffles closer, concerned for the green eyed boy. “Hey, you okay?” he asks gently, a foot away from Harry. Harry startles at the voice, but clams down after, noticing that the man is just a few years older than him. He’s awe strucked at the man’s beauty. He has sharp cheekbones, thick lashes, cinnamon hair and gorgeous blue eyes. “I- I’m okay, th- thanks” he manages to stammer.

The young man isn’t convinced. Obviously… Harry never got the hang of lying. “You have an amazing voice” he says.

Harry blushes, not saying anything. He tries to stop staring at the man’s enchanting eyes that seek attention from all directions. But they’re empty, not full of life, like he thought they would be.

“Judging by your reaction to the lyrics of this song, are you gay then?” he asks.

Harry tenses, but the man doesn’t notice. “Yeah” he admits before breaking into a sob. “’m sorry”

The man furrows his brows in confusion. “Sorry for what, love?” he says, his voice still gentle. He touches Harry shoulders, but out of instinct, Harry shies from the touch. The man’s eyes widen in fear. He was just going to apologize, but Harry squeaks something incoherent.

“Please don’t hurt me” he repeats.

“I wasn’t planning to hurt you, love” The man apologizes. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Did someone do that to your face?”

Harry doesn’t answer.

“You better get that clean before it gets infected” he advises, pointing at the cut on his lip. “I’m Louis, by the way. I go to the university up the road from your school”

Harry’s heart pace quickens, “How did you know what scho-“

Louis laughs. “It’s on your uniform, silly”

“Oh.” Is all Harry can manage to say, embarrassed for his stupidity. “I’ve got to go home, now”

He stands and wipes the tears from his face, but they come back for some reason. “Oh, please don’t cry” Louis says, startled, like it was his fault. He stands and wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders. He tenses at first but slowly melts into Louis’ arms.

“Please stop crying” he says to Harry. “A pretty boy like you shouldn’t be upset, should they?”

Harry turns beet. He pulls away, opening his mouth to say something, but closes it when nothing comes out. Louis smirks and says his farewell.

Harry runs home and screams into his pillow as soon as he gets to his room, forgetting all the bad that happened at school, and remembering Louis deep blue eyes and honeysweet voice. Ugh. Why is he so beautiful?

Louis; Harry mentally adds him to the long list of hopeless crushes.


End file.
